


Convergent

by orphan_account



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Angst, Chicago, F/M, Revolution, War, dauntless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After reoccurring arguments with her father about the choices of his rule, Claire gets forcefully sent inside Chicago so she can get a better look. Along the way she catches feelings for a certain commander.
Relationships: Eric (Divergent)/Original Female Character(s), Eric (Divergent)/You
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉 . 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉 . 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

My white shoes drag across the gravel, footsteps reluctant as I near the fence. My striped dress represents the Candor faction’s colors, hands tucked awkwardly inside my skirt pockets. The small packet hidden inside my bra pushes against my breast in an uncomfortable fashion, making me desperately want to scratch it, but I ignore the sensation. I’m going to need that box later. 

“Ready?” One of the two men accompanying me ask, as if I had a choice. I don’t take it out on them, they’re just doing their job and I’ve come to terms with my fate. I nod, my shoulder-length hair going crazy in the wind. I’m starting to question my choice of clothing as I shiver, the goosebumps covering my skin. 

“Wear black and white since you don’t seem to have any trouble speaking your mind.”

My father’s words echo throughout my ears. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve advised Jeanine not to get you killed.” 

As if that would provide any reassurance. If my death is a subject to even be questioned, did I really deserve a punishment to this extent, no matter what I was being accused of? My Divergence was confirmed; not even a matter of question since I lived all my life outside of the fence. One of my father’s acquaintances’ voice breaks my thoughts. 

“This part of the fence is left unguarded at all times. In fact, what used to be Chicago is deserted in this area; an hour drive before you can even get close to the city.” He explains. His blue suit and glasses reminds me of the Erudite faction. Not that I’d seen a member up close, just those featured in textbook pictures. 

The fence is tall — maybe about two meters high — with extra electric protection at the top. I wonder how we are going to pass it? I just stare at my accomplice. He smiles at me; maybe a little in pity, or that just might be my imagination. 

“There is a hidden gate.” He pushes his finger into part of the fence and surely, a gate that I had been unaware of slowly opens. “Impressive.” I murmur, not sure if I’m being sarcastic or not. He smiles at me again. “After you.” 

“Are you making sure I don’t run away?” All of father’s employees view me as a brat. They figured it’d change as I grew older, they assumed that I would eventually grow accustomed to the life, but here I am at age seventeen, defiant as ever. Defiance is the main reason I got myself into this situation. 

He avoids my question, and also my eyes. “Ladies first.” Taking a deep breath as if it is my last, I run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame it. Stepping onto the other side meant giving up my life, my freedom, my hobbies. It meant giving up everything as I knew it to live with people that are pawns placed into a twisted, manipulated system. The worst part was that they weren’t even aware of it; Sheeple!

Gulping, I feel my body tremble and my heart beat with dread as I step through the gate and to the other side. My accomplices shortly follow suit. The second one is dressed identical to the first, in fact, if you don’t pay much attention, you’d think they are twins. 

We walk for what seems like hours, although I don’t have the chance to think about that. My thoughts race as my eyes skim the scenery; not much to see, except occasional patches of grass and debris lying around in the dirt. Finally, we reach a dirt road, where a black truck is waiting for us in the distance. 

“That’s your cue.” He places a hand on my shoulder, patting it lightly, as if ushering me to go ahead. I look back at him, and for a moment he glances down at my dress, I fear he’s taken notice of my tucked away packet. 

“You look convincing.” He reassures me, turning back and the two start to walk away. He hadn’t noticed it; he‘d just been checking the legitimacy of my outfit. 

I bend down to adjust my socks, tuck my shoelaces into my shoes, pull my dress down and push loose strands of my hair behind my ears. I trudge towards the dark, high model car. For a secluded civilization, they seem to be quite advanced. 

The windows are tinted so I can’t quite see inside until a door is opened for me. A blonde woman in her thirties sits in the driver’s seat, her professional blue suit and skirt reminding me of a stewardess as she smiles widely at me, showing her perfect, white teeth. 

“Claire Johnson! What a delight!” Her voice is cheery — I recognize her to be Jeanine Matthews. Leader of the Erudite faction and, most importantly, one of the only people aware of life outside of the fence. Also the woman that consistently manipulates the population of all five factions; with the help of my father, of course. 

Did these people never question if they were truly the only humans who existed on Earth?

Maybe they were too busy limiting themselves to a single personality trait to notice. Or maybe they were just afraid; afraid that their reality wasn’t really reality after all. The factions were the best method of keeping people suppressed and to abstain them from fighting each other, according to my father. 

“Jeanine.” My hand trembles a bit as I reach to shake hands with the Erudite leader. Jeanine squeezes my hand slightly, her eyes staring so deep into mine that it seems like she’s trying to look through my soul. 

“I figure you already know all about me.” She cuts to the chase. I avoid her glance and busy myself with buckling my seatbelt as Jeanine starts to drive. “Yes, I’m familiar with your work.” I don’t know any other way to reply. Being inside the fence took my sense of security away, along with my freedom of speech. 

“Work that you will inherit very soon.” She says it as if I am lucky. I notice a small knife tucked into her stockings, a form of defense against anyone who tries to attack her. The car bounces slightly atop the dirt road as we make our way through the vast nothingness and closer to the city. 

“I don’t know about that.” She smiles at me as if I am a deluded child. 

“Your father wishes you’d understand the factions more and why we do what we do. You’ll learn to love them after your stay here, the factions I mean. They are fascinating and provide so much boundary for longterm peace and human achievement.” 

She proudly talks about the factions as if she was the one who first created them, The gleam in her eyes indicating that she truly believes in every word she says. 

If Jeanine didn’t favor my family, she’d have me dead in an instant since I don’t agree with her, since I couldn’t be controlled by her—Divergent. They all see me as some sort of rebel against the faction system. Couldn’t they see that what they’re doing is immoral?

“It’s not fair to kill whoever doesn’t fit in.” I try to protest, but her mind is set on her opinions. 

“The Divergent don’t belong inside of the fence; they’re a threat to the faction society.” 

‘Which means the faction society is weak.’ I think to myself, but I don’t voice it aloud. It’s no use — If my own father refuses to listen, Jeanine most certainly will not. 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

Sitting next to Jeanine Matthews while she drives is weird. It was certainly not on my bucket list to carpool with a fucking dictator. Although, now that I think about it, I do that on a daily basis with my father. It’s just more awkward since it’s her. 

Thankfully, the visions of the city distract me. At first glance, dystopian Chicago looks unlike any other American city, but delving deeper, you can definitely see the similarities. Admittedly, this part of my punishment is fucking cool; like watching the making of a history textbook. Cool, yet terrifying. 

I wonder if my family will be remembered as traitors to humanity in the future. To ponder something like that is rather painful, although, I would’ve never imagined the faction system lasting without a problem for one hundred years. Considering that, maybe it’d last for all eternity.

Did the factions never get curious as to what was on the other side of fence?

I‘m still looking out the window when we finally arrive to the designated part of the city, relieved to be getting out of the car but also still quite fascinated. The city looks more renovated than the outdated pictures in my textbooks, the skyscrapers lining the streets for as far as the eye can see. 

The streets are wet with recent rain, people carrying umbrellas and walking around, all tending to their daily activities. I watch them in awe; it’s like staring at a science experiment or gazing directly into a social studies textbook. 

Everyone seems preoccupied with their own tasks, thankfully not paying much attention to my arrival. In the district that I’m in, everyone wears blue — Erudite. Of all the factions, I felt they were the most hypocritical. Constantly seeking knowledge, yet not bothering to question their own societal construct. 

Jeanine parks her car outside the biggest building, a blue neon sign labelled ‘Erudite HQ.’ hanging atop it. 

From under the seats she hands me a long blue coat, one that would cover my neck to my ankles. 

I push my hands into the two large pockets aligning the sides after buttoning up the front of the manteau. The only thing out of place now were my white shoes, which weren’t very noticeable in the first place. 

She leads me inside Erudite Headquarters, falsely smiling at the person sitting behind the front desk. “M-Ms. Matthews.” 

I take a look around. All the furniture is white—the desks, the computers, the chairs—contrary to what everybody (now including me) wears. The place looks like a mental asylum remodeled to serve as a library. 

“Claire,” Jeanine leads me inside an elevator, pressing the tenth button. The doors shut, and her eyes land on me, forcing that smile once again. “I see great potential in you.” 

My gaze escapes Jeanine’s, facing my own honey-colored eyes in the mirror behind her. Part of my dark hair falls into my face, more tame now that we were indoors. 

The elevator doors open once again and this time I exit before the Erudite leader does, walking straight into a room that seems to be her office. 

White floors and walls, there is a white couch placed across from a white desk. The only form of color in the room are plants and books aligning the shelves all around the walls. 

Jeanine moves to sit behind her computer. She looks at me, and I sit on the white couch across from her, crossing my legs.

“For a rebel you’re awfully silent.” I don’t know if she’s teasing me or not, but one thing is certain: she’s been carefully observing me since the moment I sat in her vehicle. 

Did she expect me to scream and shout and protest? I knew that wouldn’t do any good. 

Rebel. 

That’s all she sees me as. 

Threat to the faction society. 

“I have a life outside of protesting the factions, you know.” I almost laugh at my explanation. Laugh at my situation, at how absurd it all seems. 

Maybe if Jeanine was a guest at one of my family’s dinner parties, we’d pretend better that we get along, but right now, we look equally ready to rip each other’s throats out. 

Jeanine stares at me for the longest moment. “Activities teenagers enjoy doing outside of the fence are quite different compared to inside, I hope you learn to respect and understand the differences in our lifestyle.” It’s more of a threat than a hope. 

“What exactly am I going to be doing here?” I finally ask. “Am I just going to be placed as a normal citizen in any faction?” Jeanine’s smile is big, as if she’s been waiting for me to ask that question. 

“But we don’t even know if you’re even fit to be in any faction, yet, Claire.” Her smug expression makes me angry, anxious even. “What do you mean?” “I’m sure you’ve heard from your father about the faction less.” 

“Yes..” I watch as she pulls a document out of her desk drawer, handing it to me. “Sixteen year old born into factions can become full members of any faction of their choice by passing that faction’s initiation.” I nod my head. I had heard about that, too. 

“You, my dear, will be going through the same process.” I can’t believe my ears. Me, Claire Johnson, going through faction initiation? “That’s deluded—“ She suddenly stands, breaking my sentence. “Are you afraid you’re not qualified enough for a system you claim is ‘stupid’?” 

I grit my teeth. Feeling my heartbeat speed up. “But what if I fail? Do I just go back home outside the fence—“ 

“There is no failing, Claire Johnson.” She uses my full name. “There is no returning, not until you pass your punishment.” 

“But what if I don’t pass—“

“There is no returning, not until you pass your punishment.” She repeats, smiling wide; an evil smile. “If you don’t pass, you stay inside of Chicago and live faction less.” 

“My father would never agree to that!” My entire body trembles; this is not something I’d have agreed to. I should’ve ran away when I had the chance. “The paper in your hands is a letter from your father.” 

My knuckles turn white as I grip the sheet, so hard that I cause it to tear slightly. I can feel my heart beat in my ears as I try to calm down, focusing my vision on the paper. 

It’s hard to comprehend what I’m reading, making me repeat it multiple times in my head before finally understanding it. Sure enough, it is a letter from my father, stating the conditions of my punishment: pass a faction’s initiation, then return to society after twenty-one days living under that faction. 

The last few sentences kindly ask Jeanine to spare my life and keep me from getting killed, and, finally yet surely, advise me to not return unless initiation is passed and the three week term is completed. 

A tear falls from my eye, staining the letter marked with my father’s stamp. Do I have any right to be shocked? That’s expected from someone who keeps hoards of clueless people locked away inside of a fence. If he doesn’t care about thousands of people, he wouldn’t care about one little girl, either. A little girl that just so happens to be his daughter. 

Images of my life with my father flash through my head, memories of my childhood flooding into my vision. The bedtime stories he used to read to me, the times we went on extravagant vacations together or even had a small barbecue in the backyard. It all seems cliché, but the tears continue to fall. 

I wipe at my face with my sleeve, I don’t want Jeanine to see me cry. “Okay...” I tell her, giving in. My voice is weak and comes out as a whisper, so I repeat louder; “Okay.” 

She watches me through her small eyes before smiling again, triumphant. “I’m positive you will do fairly successfully, Claire Johnson.” 

I don’t say anything, just stare at the document for a few moments, reading it again. The words seem to etch into my memory, fueling me with an anger towards my father I didn’t know I had. I always knew I disagreed with his views, but never before have I felt so betrayed; so downright pissed. 

Squeezing the paper and crumpling it up into a tiny ball, I toss it as far away from me as I can. Maybe if I can’t see it, I can pretend it doesn’t exist, even for a few short moments. 

“Lucky for you, the choosing ceremony is a few days from now.” She doesn’t mention the fact that I am littering in her office, leaning back in her chair. “Lucky for me.” I repeat sarcastically, but I am also waiting for the newly processed information to sink in. 

“Have you thought about what faction you’d fit into best?” I’d rather be punched in the face than to be expected to choose a faction at this very moment. I stare at my white shoes, trying to remember every faction and what they stand for. 

White: Candor. Honesty. 

“I need to think.” I tell her. My head hurts and I feel sick to my stomach. Jeanine studies me for a moment before reaching into her desk drawer and pulling out a card—a key card—like the ones used to unlock hotel rooms. 

“Take the elevator to floor eleven, room 112. You’ll be staying there until the choosing ceremony.” She‘s prepared for my arrival to Erudite, it seems. I accept the card with a nod, exiting her office before she can speak. She doesn’t try to; in order to make my decision she knows I need to be alone. 

I can’t think of anything as I board the elevator, gripping the rails and trying to keep steady as I watch my reflection in the mirror. I try to think but can’t—all I feel is the pounding of my heart and the pure hatred coursing through my veins. 

Do I hate my father for doing this to me? 

He’s been doing this to so many people yet I still associated with him, would it be selfish of me if I despised him now? Weren’t the conditions of his own daughter’s punishment going too far?

The unanswered questions hurt my head and cause tears to well up in my eyes again. I’m starting to freak out; I can’t think, I can’t think, I can’t think. My hair falls into my face, sticking to my skin because of my tears. The feeling is unpleasant and I try to push the locks aside. 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

Over the past couple days I’d spent most of my time sulking in my room or hanging out at the Erudite library, researching the factions while hidden underneath my blue coat. I hadn’t bothered talking to anyone and in return, no one really questioned who I am. 

Jeanine had given me a card with plenty of points to spend, (after some research, I’d learned that points inside the fence are equivalent to money outside of them) but I hadn’t really been in the shopping mood. 

After a while Jeanine stopped trying to converse with me and tended to her own daily activities. I didn’t blame her; being a tyrant must keep a woman busy. That didn’t mean she didn’t have her eyes on me, though, I could feel her guards monitoring me at every chance. 

It’d peaked my interest how exactly the factions portrayed human history and the events that led to their current civilization. It was all the same misinformation that I previously knew; factions were created in order to maintain peace in society. 

Currently, I sit on my bed and sulk once again, my eyes roaming the limited possessions I have available in my room. 

Under my ‘Candor’ outfit, a packet of cigarettes is hidden, the small box being the only thing I was able to sneak into the fence with me. Out of the twenty original sticks inside, only thirteen remain. Staying inside the fence was starting to take a toll on my lungs, not to mention my mental health. 

Taking one and placing it between my lips, I stare at my notes placed atop my desk, which are all over-simplified versions of the faction manifestos I scribbled onto a piece of paper:

«I choose to turn away from my reflection, to project always outward until I disappear. -Abnegation. 

We believe that pain and death are better than cowardice and inaction, because we believe in action. -Dauntless. 

Dishonesty is rampant. Dishonesty is temporary. Dishonesty makes evil possible. 

The truth makes us transparent, it makes us strong and inextricable. -Candor

Trust. Self-Sufficiency. Forgiveness. Kindness. Involvement. -Amity»

Abnegation and Amity are absolutely out of the question; I mean, what kind of sixteen-year-old wakes up and decides they want to be a community worker or a farmer for all of eternity?

I knew Abnegation supported the faction less, which sparked a lot of controversy in the factions, and I knew that Amity supplied all of the factions with food. None of those seemed appealing to me, besides, I couldn’t keep away from my reflection or steer away from conflict. 

Erudite was also ruled out—in fact, I hadn’t even bothered copying and pasting their manifesto into my notes—I already knew I wanted to be as far from Jeanine as possible. 

Maybe, just maybe, I could forget my situation and fit in for the short time I’m here. Maybe I can start to understand these people; maybe I can sympathize more. 

Maybe I could help them WAKE UP. The thought, however small, is revolutionary. I don’t pay much attention to it at the moment, though. I know if I choose to stay at Erudite I can’t do any of those things. These last couple of days I felt like a zoo animal. Maybe if I change my faction it’ll be harder for Jeanine to monitor me. 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

Today is the day. For everyone else, it marks an irreversible, fate changing decision, but for me, it just determines a few weeks of my life. That doesn’t make it any easier to decide, though, even if I’ve narrowed it down to two choices: Candor and Dauntless. 

Candor is the faction that values honesty above all and, supposedly, the faction I was born into; or so it says on my card: 

Claire Johnson

Faction of Origin: Candor 

Joining Dauntless is like joining the army: you’re brave, you face your fears and, most importantly, you provide protection for the other factions. Protection from what?

I fidget with my points card, staring at my information. In less than a few hours I will make my decision. My mind tells me to go for the faction with the easier initiation: Candor. 

Well, in reality, the faction with the easiest initiation is Abnegation—how hard can community service really be? I have a lot of experience due to my constant misbehaving at home—but that was already ruled out.

Though Candor’s initiation would be impossible for me; from my research, I’d found out that in order to pass Candor initiation, you are to be put under a truth serum and interrogated. 

They believe that, if everything about you is already exposed then there is no reason to lie about anything, therefore creating an honest and perfect human being. 

Which creates the problem that I cannot be even the slightest bit honest about who I am, because who I am inside the factions is a complete lie. 

They’d never believe the events of my life; I’d be deemed as a crazy liar, causing me to fail initiation and become faction less before my punishment even started. That only leaves me with one choice: Dauntless. 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

Sitting in the bath for the longest time, I clean my body and untangle my hair, brushing back the bangs that fall into my face. My brown eyes are dull and there are bags under them, but I don’t really take notice. 

I get dressed quickly and put on my shoes, pushing my cigarette box into my dress, concealing it. As irrelevant as a pack of nicotine sticks may seem, I’m starting to grow attached to it—it makes me feel closer to the world outside of Chicago—it’s the only thing that feels like home in this facility. 

I put on the blue coat Jeanine gave me, camouflaging me with the rest of the Erudite faction and take the elevator to Jeanine’s office. It seems she is waiting for me, as soon as I walk in she stands. 

“Claire Johnson.” She greets. It seemed like forever since I’d last seen her, she felt like a faraway nightmare in my memory. 

“Jeanine Matthews.” I respond. Her blue eyes stare intently into mine and this time, I don’t look away. She smiles at me, politely of course. “Have you decided?” I nod my head. “Dauntless.” 

For a moment she stares at me before bursting into laughter. “Dauntless? Is that so?” Somehow, I expected a similar reaction. I nod my head. “Dauntless.” The label sounds foreign to me, but, admittedly, deep down it gets me a little excited. Nervous, definitely, but also excited. 

“Claire you will never make it in Dauntless.” 

Hearing that, my eyes go wide, a new wave of anxiety rushing through me. “Why not?” 

“Setting aside the fact that your Divergence might be discovered—I can create a coverup for that—your body is fragile and weak. Dauntless leaders strive to find the bravest and most ruthless of soldiers, you’re not exactly qualified I believe.” 

She continued to explain. “Stay away from that society-forsaken Abnegation, and we know considering your situation, passing Candor initiation is impossible for you. Why not pick something more simple, like Amity?” 

She moves out from behind her desk and closer towards me. “I was hoping you’d make Erudite your choice, though.” She says, placing a hand on my shoulder. My body feels cold when she touches me, my knees feeling weak. “I’d love it if you stayed with us, I could show you the true potential of what the factions have to offer.” 

I let out a shaky breath, feeling my heartbeat increasing as I awkwardly bury my hands in my coat pockets. 

Her discouraging words hurt me more than I’d like to admit, but I hold back my tears. Crying would only further prove her point. Luckily, we don’t have time to converse much more as an Erudite boy knocks on the door, pushing it open. “T-The buses are leaving.” He lets us know in a shaky voice before Jeanine dismisses him. 

“Think about it.” But I know, even under the unfair conditions of this punishment, Jeanine does not have the power to decide my faction; the choice belongs to me. 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

The bus to the ceremony is packed with Erudite-born teenagers also making their choice today. The air is tense, I suppose it’s because everyone else is also nervous about making their decision. 

The bus runs on solar power; I assume due to the solar panels lining its roof. I remember reading about the Erudite’s technology somewhere, but I can’t recall how advanced they are. 

Once seated, I keep my gaze out the window and no one seems to notice me. My thoughts continue to race, but thankfully I’m distracted by the scenery of the city. 

We pass many skyscrapers that resemble the ones outside of Chicago, before finally arriving outside a white building, parking in front of the giant white doors. 

The building, which seems to have at least forty stories, is decorated with yellow fairy lights, the lights inside of it also radiating a yellow glow. I don’t have much time to examine it, though, as everyone else is exitting the bus and I am forced to follow. 

I follow the other Erudite sixteen-year-olds inside the building and immediately into an elevator, someone hitting the twentieth floor. It seems they know where to go, which makes me even more nervous. 

I can hear my heartbeat speed up as I make eye contact with myself in the mirror, my eyes looking equally as terrified as I feel. I close my eyes and shove my hands into my pockets, trying to calm myself down. 

A few long moments pass and we finally arrive, the elevator doors opening, revealing a huge, stadium-like stage surrounded by chairs. I am flabbergasted by the sight; once again, I feel like I am living through a real life history textbook. There must be at least thousands of people here, almost every member from every faction all seated next to each other. 

Members from all five factions sit together in five groups, smiling and talking and holding hands and... doing human things. Like a society and not like a human experiment.

I see clothes of all colors; black, yellow, red, grey, blue, white and finally black again. I am in awe at how well put-together they look. I don’t know how to describe it; like ants in a colony or fans dressing up in their favorite team’s colors. Everyone looks in-place, like they are truly where they belong. 

A sense of insecurity hits me; will I really be able to fit in with them? Divergents are a threat to the faction society; because they never fit in. How am I expected to pass an initiation my brain is programmed to fail? 

Calm down, it’s okay. 

I lie to myself. I know that it is, in fact, definitely not okay, in reality it is far from that. but it seems to calm me down temporarily. 

You can pretend for a little while, then you’ll be outta here. 

If I have to stay any longer than three weeks, I will most likely lose my sanity, if I haven’t lost that already. 

In this reality, the factions are essential to keeping the peace. In this reality, we are the only humans left. 

I repeat it to make myself believe it, even temporarily, but it just makes me angry. I feel my face heating up, my hands balling into fists. 

‘I am going to kill my dad.’ 

I promise myself. How selfish of me for not ending his reign sooner, for allowing him to continue doing this for as long as I was aware. 

When I get out of here, I’m going to—

My train of thought is broken by a man who pushes me. “What are you doing, girl? Go stand with your faction!” I look at him. His skin is the color of chocolate and he wears a black and white suit. Candor. 

“Is there a bathroom anywhere?” I ask awkwardly. He points towards a hallway I had not noticed before. I mumble a thanks and run away before he can say anything else. 

Sure enough, there is a bathroom at the end of the hallway. I push the door open and disappear inside. There is no mirror, just a sink and a toilet. I don’t need either. 

I just take off my blue jacket, tossing it in the trash can. I abandoned Erudite; I am now Candor. Soon to be Dauntless. 

It calms me down a little, and I exit the bathroom, joining everyone else. Everyone is seated and quiet since the assembly has started and Jeanine stands on the podium, giving a lecture on the importance of choosing the correct faction. 

I don’t know what factions I have an aptitude for, since I, unlike the other sixteen-year-olds, haven’t taken the aptitude test, which is a series of simulations that determines what faction you’d best fit into. When it comes to choosing a faction, I can only guess where I could belong. 

Jeanine talks briefly and after her, a man dressed in grey whom I assume is the Leader of the Abnegation makes a speech. One by one, the leaders of Erudite, Abnegation, Candor and Amity all contribute to talking about the importance of our decision today. 

I almost don’t notice that Dauntless doesn’t have a representative at the ceremony, which makes Jeanine look rather frustrated. “Let us begin the calling of names!” She says, her eyes darting through the Dauntless crowd, brows furrowed together. 

What in the world could be so important that not a single Dauntless leader could make it to the initiation ceremony—one of the most important faction ceremonies—because of it? Maybe that’s why Jeanine looks so angry. 

I think long and hard, but I can’t remember who the Dauntless leaders are. I know Abnegation has a council, and Erudite has a single leader, but I don’t remember anything about Dauntless. 

I should’ve spent more time in my father’s library. 

I shake my head. Not that it matters anymore, I’ll burn the place down as soon as I get out of Chicago. The thought makes me feel the slightest bit happy. 

Jeanine starts reading names off of a list going in alphabetical order, which means it doesn’t take long until she reads mine: Claire Johnson. I stand shakily and meet her eyes as I walk up towards the podium, facing the bowls that represent each faction. 

She flashes me a small smile, keeping her eyes on me for a moment before glancing back down at her piece of paper and looking at me once again. An associate of Jeanine’s hands me a butterknife. “Choose wisely.” He whispers. 

I can feel Jeanine’s eyes watching me as I take the knife with shaky hands. “Thank you.” I mutter. I feel my heart pounding in my chest and hear it race in my ears.

Taking a deep breath, I push the tip of the knife into my palm, wincing as my blood pours into my chosen bowl. My hand burns, a reminder of my choice, of my faction. 

I can hear the group of Candor I was standing with earlier gasp. They don’t recognize who I am; they just know I am now a Candor transfer. The very first Candor transfer who just so happened to choose Dauntless. 

The last thing I see is Jeanine trying to hide her astonished expression as I am led away by a Dauntless woman. The last thing she sees is me trying to hide my smile at her face.


	2. 2

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉 . 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉 . 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

Adrenaline rushes through my veins and I scream so hard my lungs burn. The wind whips my face and my hair goes wild as my body plummets, falling into what I assume is a sick joke. This whole experience is a sick joke; a sick joke that would eventually lead to my death. How did I even end up here?

Everything that happened after the Choosing Ceremony is a blur in my memories. After I spilled my blood on the Dauntless coals, a woman dressed in black led me out of the building and onto a truck, along with the teenagers that also chose Dauntless after me. 

The back of the truck is guarded by two men carrying guns, their multiple tattoos and piercings signifying their faction—my faction—Dauntless. 

Almost my faction. 

My brain taunts. 

Hopefully my faction. 

One of them grips my hand and helps me onto the truck, his green eyes taking interest in me for just a moment before moving on to the next initiate, also helping her climb onto the vehicle. 

As the truck starts I look around at the people surrounding me. Aside from the two Dauntless guards who now sit down, there are exactly twenty-three initiates; eight of which are faction transfers, like me. I know this by the way they carry themselves and by the color of their clothes. Somehow, they seem just as nervous as me. 

The fifteen others, however, look like they’ve been waiting their entire lives for this moment; ecstatic. They, unlike the transfers, have made their families proud. Disowning family members due to different opinions seems to be a thing both inside and outside of the fence, I note. 

The miniature Dauntless look tamer than the older ones do, their tattoos smaller, less detailed, their ears and faces pierced in less places than their peers’. They are just as rowdy and loud, though, talking between each other and making jokes, their laughter unsuppressed. 

The transfers, however, are quiet, like me, looking around occasionally, waiting to see what happens next. Three of them are from Erudite, two—with me, three—from Candor, and finally, two are from Abnegation. The Greys stick together and keep their eyes down, suppressing their curiosity; an old habit from their old faction. 

There are no transfers to Dauntless from Amity, which is expected. An Amity-raised initiating for Dauntless would be a death sentence. 

The truck drives for what seems like fifteen minutes before finally arriving to its destination: railroad tracks. The guards don't help us down from the truck this time, jumping out of it so easily it looks like they are landing on pillows. The Dauntless-born initiates follow soon after, and finally, the transfers, including me, follow suit. My knees hurt from the impact, adding to the burning of my palm; which reeks of dry blood, but I ignore it. Bloody palms is a trait all of us initiates share today, symbolizing the choice we made.

"To get to the Dauntless compound we will be jumping onto the next train that arrives!” The woman shouts. She’s dressed in tight pants and a jacket featuring a badge that reads her name: Kissa. 

Jumping onto a train. I feel like my breath like is trapped in my throat. I'd known this was coming—I'd heard about the Dauntless jumping in and out of moving trains to get places—I'm just not mentally prepared to do it this soon.

The Dauntless-born cheer and Kissa grins at them, clearly prideful of her faction. Her bangs fall into her face and the back of her dark hair, even though tied up, reaches just below her waist. Her aura resembles that of a ninja. 

In the distance, a train approaches, slowing down once it reaches a certain part of the tracks but never coming to a complete stop. Kissa, the two guards and the Dauntless-born initiates take a step back and get into a stance, the rest of us imitating them the best we can as we prepare to latch onto the train at the same time as they do. 

Taking a few steps back, Kissa charges at the train and hurls her body at one of the cars, pulling herself inside with ease. Gulping, I don’t bother trying to steady my heart. It pounds away and honestly, I don’t mind it; in order to make the jump, I need the adrenaline. With the hormone running through my veins, I can’t think straight, and that’s exactly the logic I need to throw myself into a moving train. 

Steadying my breaths and trying to calm my trembling hands, I take a few steps back and run at the train. Launching myself at the moving car, I feel every muscle in my legs contrast as I jump, probably the furthest jump I’ve ever made in my life. I don’t even feel the pain shooting through my ankles as I land, all I can think of is one thing: I made it. I made it into the train. I, Claire Johnson, Dauntless initiate and former Divergent from outside of the factions, made the jump onto a moving train. 

The victory is short lived, however, because I know what comes next is somehow even more difficult: jumping out. My hands shake and my heart races, bracing myself for what’s to come. “Take a step back and hurl yourself as far as you can.” Kissa instructs. 

And that I do. As soon as the train slows and I witness the gray tone of a rooftop, I thrust my body out and into the air. It seems like eternity until I collide with concrete, the impact skimming my skin, sending spikes of pain throughout my body, especially my wounded palm. 

Following my landing, the rest of the initiates jump, the Dauntless-born obviously landing with much more ease and grace. I’m surprised I was the first to jump, even before Kissa and the guards. 

I don’t bother to look around and see who didn’t make it; a scream already indicated that someone fell to their demise. As the adrenaline dies down, my entire body trembles. I try to stop it, but it’s no use. Someone just fell to their death. Someone that rode on the truck with me just a few minutes earlier was now dead. 

I look like I’m going to be sick, and Kissa notices, smirking at me. “There’s going to be a hell of a lot more incidents like that, initiates.” She emphasizes the word as if it’s a threat, like she’s reminding us we’re not Dauntless members just yet and could be eliminated any second. 

Dying is frowned upon here; to die means you were weak, it means you were never worthy to begin with. But how can you have a chance to prove your worth when you died on the ride, before you even arrived?

I continue to stare at Kissa, horrified. Her bangs are shorter than mine, stopping a few millimeters down her forehead, while mine come down halfway. With her arched brows, wicked smile and compete disregard for human life, I am convinced she is evil. 

The initiates all gather around Kissa, awaiting instructions. The two Dauntless guards stand on either side of her, their guns relaxed now, held just below their waistline. From the way an Erudite girl sobs, it seems the fallen initiate was from her faction, and someone she knew at that. Her weeps are muffled by her hand and her body trembles as she mourns quietly, not wanting to attract the attention of the Dauntless. 

I don’t realize how much my hands are shaking until I reach out and place a hand on the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. She flinches and looks back at me, her icy blue eyes going wide in fear for a moment before she relaxes. Her body still trembles as she cries and, instinctively, I run my hands down her back, trying to soothe her, even the slightest bit. 

Please calm down. 

My mind silently pleads. 

It’ll be better soon, I promise. 

Though symbols never meant much to me, the black and white clothes on my body start to feel meaningless with all the lies I tell myself recently. I can’t wait to change out of them; in order fit in with the Dauntless, to look like them, to truly feel like I’m one of them and actually have a chance at passing. 

The initiates form a half circle around Kissa, who stands on the edge of the rooftop, scanning each of our faces with an amused expression. “Can you guess what comes next?” She asks, her eyes moving onto the two Dauntless guards, who chuckle quietly at her question but say nothing. 

For a few seconds, Kissa awaits a response, but once it is clear that we don’t have one, she continues: “We’re going to be jumping off this roof.” It feels like my breath is trapped in my throat. “Who wants to go first?” She yells, her voice, though feminine, booming. 

Jump off a roof? Is it even possible to survive that? 

I don’t have time to think much about it as a Dauntless-born initiate steps forward, his dark curls falling onto his forehead, a determined expression on his face. From behind him, I can see a dragon tattoo peeking out of his sweater collar, ending on the back of his neck, right below his ears. 

“I’ll go first.” His voice is awfully quiet, just barely above a whisper, yet somehow holds power and confidence at the same time. He looks and acts fearless, but paying close attention I realize his pale hands shake. He clenches them into fists, suppressing the involuntary movement as his grey eyes dart from Kissa’s face to the side of the rooftop, determined. 

“What is your name, initiate?” Kissa asks, the amusement evident in her voice, the expression never leaving her face. Standing up onto the side of the grey building, he breathes out shakily, ignoring—or maybe being too nervous to hear or even comprehend—Kissa’s question. One moment he stands on the edge of the rooftop and the next he is gone, the only proof of his existence being the sound of his scream as he plummets down the side of the grey building. 

It is the first time the Dauntless-born are silent. No cheering, laughing, clapping, or even whispering. Silence; a deafening one at that, especially as the jumper’s voice slowly disappears. 

Kissa no longer looks so amused, in fact she seems a bit irritated at her question being ignored by the nameless boy. “I wonder if he lived.” She says a little too loudly, as if she wants us to hear her thinking out loud. 

She’s just trying to scare you. 

My mind points out, and I know it is the truth. There must be water or something down there, otherwise they wouldn’t just let us jump down to our deaths like that. If the jumper really was dead, we would’ve heard his body hit the ground, right?

“Alright, who’s next?” Her dark eyes scan our faces, searching for the next jumper. Nobody makes a sound, and before I can catch myself, I step forward. “I’ll jump.” My voice comes out monotonous, as if I am reciting from a script, and the amused expression returns to Kissa’s face. “A Candor! And what’s your name?” 

My eyes meet her piercing stare, and I flash her a tiny smile. As low as it may seem, if I want to survive at Dauntless, I have to earn her favor. I feel like I could throw up, but once again, the adrenaline takes over my senses like a drug and I can’t think. 

“Claire Johnson.” I say, gulping as I step onto the ledge. “See you at the bottom, maybe.” I don’t know if it’s a taunt or a reassurance, but without responding, I jump. 

I scream and close my eyes as my body plummets, my heart beating so fast I feel like it just might explode. It feels like an eternity of falling until I finally open my eyes, right at the same time as I land into a net, bouncing twice before coming to a stop. I lay in the net, panting and trying to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my ears as my now-hoarse throat burns with thirst, sparks of pain shooting through my head all at once. I ignore it; I am alive.

I made it. 

I survived. 

I sit up, groaning in pain and holding my head, desperate for relief. “Second initiate.” I hear a masculine voice say as a figure approaches me. My head hurts so bad I can’t make out who it is; I just see a shadow hovering over me before it pulls me out of the net and onto my feet. 

My knees feel like jelly as I struggle to maintain my balance. I think the cut on my palm has reopened again, burning as blood runs down my wrist. He leads me to a curb, where I sit down, catching my breath and regaining my vision after a few minutes. My head still hurts and my hand is, in fact, bleeding, and I try my best to ignore it. 

Looking around in awe, I take in my surroundings. All around me are buildings so tall I can’t see where they end, looking like they’re poking their heads into the clouds, disappearing inside them. At the center of all the grey skyscrapers, though, is a giant net. 

“Initiate number two.” The same voice from earlier says from behind me, startling me as I look back. “Is that me?” My voice comes out as a hoarse half-whisper, looking up at the man towering over me. His hair is slicked back and he has the typical Dauntless look; muscular form, tattoos, piercings, and, most commonly, a fierce expression. 

“You’re the second one who jumped, so you’re initiate number two.” He explains, reaching a hand out to me, helping me to my feet. I stand up successfully this time. 

I hear a distant scream and, before I know it, another body tumbles into the net, looking like a whirlwind of blonde hair and dark clothes. Third jumper: a girl from Dauntless. 

The man, who I figure is another one of my instructors, points towards one of the buildings’ doors. “Head inside and find the initiates’ compound. Pick your bed, that’s where you’ll stay until dinnertime.” I nod. 

As he starts towards the net to assist the girl, he turns around and, with a grin, he says; “Welcome to Dauntless.” 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

The initates’ dormitory is a long, narrow room, with rows of bunk beds aligning the walls. Each bed has a number, starting from one and ending at twenty. Beds one through ten are on the left side of the room, and eleven through twenty fill the right side. Aside from the bunks, the room is empty of any kind of furniture. 

Bed number two belongs to me, since I am initiate number two and also the second jumper. It is a top bunk, the one below it belonging to the first jumper, who I came to know as Zeke. Behind our shared bunk is a window overlooking the vast forest that divides Dauntless and Amity territory. (Zeke had given me this piece of information while I struggled to climb the top bunk.) 

“Never slept in a bunk before?” He asks, wrapping his arms around my ankles and helping me onto my part of the bed. From this angle, I am taller, but still less intimidating than him. It’s like I stand no chance against him, I find it hard to believe I even jumped after him.

“I haven’t,” I answer curtly, and Zeke nods his head, his hair bouncing as he does so. Unlike the other Dauntless, Zeke sports no piercings, and I wonder why. 

A scream comes from the second group of bunks, beds number eleven through twenty. “Get the fuck off my bed!” A Candor girl shouts, tugging on an Erudite boy’s hair. “Your bed? That’s clearly my bed!” His blonde locks tangle as they are messed with, his glasses placed atop his nose in an askew manner. 

“What’s going on here?” A fist slams on the wall, a loud ‘bang!’ echoing throughout the room as everyone falls silent. A Dauntless male with a shaved head and face tattoos stands at the door, a gun tucked into his waistband as he holds a basket full of clothes. His expression is beyond annoyed, and when he overlooks the state of the room, he somehow seems even gloomier. 

“I heard there were a lot of initiates this year, but I didn’t know there were this many,” he mutters as he empties the basket, a hump of black clothes sitting in the middle of the room. 

“Obviously we weren’t expecting so many transfers, there aren’t enough beds for all of you.” He explains absentmindedly, his voice slurring on, as if he’s thinking of other things at the same time that he forms his words. “Some of you will have to share until.. well, others get out.” He explains. 

“What?” The blonde boy asks, looking like he’s ready to give the guard a piece of his mind, but he is already gone. “Put the initiates’ clothes on, then head to the cafeteria for dinner.” He calls out over his shoulder before disappearing, the blonde’s face twisting into an expression of anger. 

“Eduard?” A small voice peeps from bed number thirteen. Eduard, the blonde boy looks up, the scowl on his face softening as he notices who called him. “It’s okay, Eduard.. You can sleep in my bed.” I recognize her to be the same girl I’d comforted on the roof, the one that had watched her friend drop to her death. 

Giving the Candor girl one last dirty look, Eduard grabs his pile of clothes and makes his way to the thirteenth bed. He wraps his arms around Gianna in an awkward hug, similar to how a middle schooler would hug his girlfriend for the first time. 

“I hope Gianna’s quiet, ‘cause I don’t wanna hear ‘em fuck all night.” Zeke blurts. I stare at him, my eyes wide and, before I can stop it, a smirk crosses my face. Zeke grins back at me, as if he doesn’t have a single care in the world, and for the first time since entering the fence, I feel a buzz of energy. Although it is small, it’s the most I’ve felt in what seems like ages, and that alone makes me feel ecstatic. 

I’ve done so much since I’ve got here: I’ve snuck into a society, stood up to their leader, made a huge decision that is choosing my faction, jumped on and off of moving trains and even fell to what I thought would be my demise. 

I think I deserve to relax for a while, to be a normal teenager and to feel free again, even if it’s only for a short amount of time. 

“Cigarette, Zeke?” I ask, offering a white stick to the Dauntless-born boy. His eyes light up as he takes it from me. “You bet.” He says, grinning again. 

I place a cigarette between my smiling lips and push the packet underneath my pillowcase, hiding it there. Zeke folds his behind his ear and pulls his hair over it, concealing the cylinder temporarily. 

We all ditch our old outfits for the fresh, black clothes provided to us, nervous, yet undeniably eager for the new start the attires bring us. Through the thin fabric, I take note of Zeke’s dragon tattoo—which extends from his neck all the way down to his back—as I follow him downstairs and towards the cafeteria. 

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉

I sit across from Zeke at the table. Gianna and Edward are seated to his right, much to his dismay. The cafeteria is crawling with Dauntless of various occupations, but the table we sit at is dedicated to the initiates, who all wear identical cargo pants and t-shirts. Mine is oversized, though, and feels itchy, causing me to run my nails along my arms. 

Taking a big bite of his hamburger, Zeke turns towards Eduard and smirks. “Black looks good on you.” The light shines on his glasses, making his eyes look hollow. “You seem less like a pansy now, final jumper.” 

“To top the fit, you totally need to ditch the old faction.” Before he can react, Zeke grabs Eduard’s glasses and stomps on them, shattering the frames. “Hey!” He shrieks, and Zeke snickers. “I can’t see without those!” 

Eduard grumbles in anger, but knows better than to pick a fight with Zeke. “Did you know the Erudite girl who fell?” I blurt, and Gianna looks at me, her icy eyes seeming surprised for a split second—just like when I’d first seen them—before she looks away. “She was just a neighbor.” 

“Why did you guys choose Dauntless anyway?” Zeke questions, curious. Eduard and Gianna exchange glances—a smile on Gianna’s face and a blush on Eduard’s—before they lock hands. Zeke looks like he wants to express his discontent, but keeps quiet. “Our parents didn’t approve of our relationship.” Gianna explains, “So we decided to change factions and be together.” 

“That’s stupid.” Zeke snorts, and her eyes widen at the blunt response. “Romantic, but stupid. You could’ve went for an easier bet, like Abnegation or Amity. Your futures would’ve been guaranteed there.” 

A smile crosses Gianna’s face. “That would’ve been boring, wouldn’t it?” Zeke grins. “Boring as fuck.” 

A few minutes pass, and Zeke, done with his hamburger, fingers the cigarette behind his ear. He meets my eyes, a sly curl in his lips and I nod my head, understanding him, despite no words being spoken. “You know the compound better.” I mumble. “Find somewhere we can smoke.” 

“Say less—“ 

Before we can leave, a loud, banging sound is heard—like a spoon beating against a pan—and shortly after, the cafeteria falls silent. No whispers or laughter that I’d expect from the Dauntless, just silence. Even Zeke has a surprised look on his face. “It’s Eric Coulter,” he breathes out, in awe. 

Eric Coulter? 

That name sounds so familiar...

”Ladies and gentlemen,” Eric starts, an unsettling smile on his face. “today we gather here to provide a small welcome to the initiates that chose our faction.” Despite his words, his tone sounds anything but welcoming. 

Eric is a tall, bulky man with blonde hair and grey eyes. His arms and neck feature dark tattoos, and his face is covered in a decent amount of piercings. Admittedly, if not concealed by his menacing appearance, his features could be viewed as handsome. 

“Ever since I became a head of Dauntless, I’ve altered the initiation rules slightly, although that shouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience for the future warriors of our city.” 

Though his appearance and physique are like that of a hard-headed Dauntless, he speaks like an Erudite. 

“I take much pride in these changes.” He continues. “The difficulty and precision of each of the training stages have been altered to only accept the select few matching our faction’s new criteria.. and to locate the Divergents, of course.” His gaze passes over the now-cheering Dauntless and lands on the initiates’ table, who look confused and nervous. My heart pounds in my chest when we lock eyes, the moment feeling like a thousand years until his piercing gaze passes to the next person. 

“I will keep our society safe from the Divergent,” He promises. 

“That is all.” With that, Eric Coulter disappears as soon as he’d appeared. 

“Out of more than twenty, only nine initiates will pass!” Eduard reads. “That’s less than half!” His hands grip the flyer so hard that his knuckles turn pale, the paper crumpling underneath his fingertips. “Training is going to be extremely competitive..” Gianna’s face is a ghostly white. 

My heart continues to race and I grip the table to keep from shaking, the rest of the initiates now talking loudly amongst themselves, though, unlike the rest of the cafeteria who also converse, they are extremely unnerved. 

“Is that what all that was about?”I grip the table to keep myself from trembling as my brain struggles to process the information. “Difficulty? Divergents? I-I don’t understand.”

I have to be better than forty percent of the initiates here, or else...

“..C’mon! let’s go smoke our cigarettes.” Although I know he is shocked and worried, too, Zeke doesn’t show it. Instead, he grabs my arm and urges me out of the cafeteria.


End file.
